


Display

by jeejaschocolate



Series: Friend, Family, Lover [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of liberation, Android/human sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Cum Play, Developing Relationship, Facials, Falling In Love, Friendship, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Headcanon, Intimacy, Kink Discovery, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasms, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Game(s), Real Life, References to Mental Health Issues, Robot Anatomy, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Sensitivity, Sexual History, android sex, tongue kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-22 14:24:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeejaschocolate/pseuds/jeejaschocolate
Summary: Connor’s new goal is to see exactly what he and Hank can do together. To test the limits of their personal pleasure.But pleasure is complicated. It's not an isolated experience. It spreads into everything.





	1. Admit

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to turn this into a series because...well, for science purposes!! T__T I could go on forever with my headcanons for these two. So here we are :) 
> 
> Hope you like the first part! Will be a two-shot, like last time.

Connor stared at the numbers on the screen. Arranged like that, they were nothing out of the ordinary. A modest sum with a dollar sign in front of them. Barely anything.

But to Connor, these numbers were a wondrous kind of anomaly. A hard fact that he was going to have to accept and also a mystery. Like the inside of a refrigerator, one of the few things Connor couldn’t scan. He needed to open it to see its contents. He couldn’t predict what would be inside before that. 

He softly drummed his fingers on his desk. Processing the numbers. Trying to figure out what that amount of money really meant. What could be done with an amount like that…

Not that Connor had any ideas what he _would_ do with it. After all, this was his first paycheck. He’d had to open up a bank account (in a bank, like humans did) just to access it. By the time he actually got around to doing that, he’d already amassed a decent sum of paychecks. Including the retrograde pay Markus and his group had agreed upon with Congress. 

From now on, androids would receive equal pay for equal work. Such was the slogan. Connor hadn’t thought much of it until now when the numbers were staring him in the face.

This was his money. He had money now. He could buy things if he wanted. His own things.

The question was, what did he want? Connor searched his database for a list of personal wants. There really wasn’t much. He already had many things in his life that he enjoyed. At the very top of that list was Hank, of course. His relationship with Hank (though still blurred somewhere between friend, family, and lover) was going along quite well. He went over Hank’s house at least three times a week, plus weekends. 

Sometimes they engaged in intimate relations. Sometimes they didn’t. Connor found that he was almost equally satisfied with either option. 

…Almost. Naturally he preferred nights when he and Hank could be sexually involved, but sometimes Hank was too tired. Connor respected that. Even when Hank wasn’t interested in sex, he let Connor sit in his lap and rest his head on his chest.

That was Connor’s new favorite thing in the world. Being close to Hank. If he pressed his ear against Hank’s chest he could hear Hank’s heartbeat. Somehow hearing it was better than seeing it through a scan. He could _feel_ it. They held hands. Connor would let his skin disappear and clutch Hank’s bare skin to his sensors while he listened to his heart. If he sat there long enough, Connor could turn down his response network processing by 75%, only 25% its normal speed. A point where there were barely any thoughts in his head. Just the heartbeat and the sound of blood rushing through Hank’s veins, pushed through his ventricles. Hank was _alive_ ; sitting like this reassured Connor of that. He felt alive through him. 

Like they were sharing the same existence. 

There was nothing better than that. Being held by Hank in that way was much more satisfying even than syncing. And Connor was sure there was nothing he could buy with money that would make him any happier. 

“So how does it feel, kid?” Hank was watching Connor from the other side of the desk. Eyeing him, gauging his reaction. “Having your own money to piss away?” 

“Satisfying.” A succinct reply. Connor navigated away from his bank account and pulled up the case files they’d been looking at.

“That’s it?” Hank shrugged defiantly. “No big feeling of independence and personhood and all that shit? You got your own credit and everything, right? That’s gotta feel good.” 

“It does,” Connor admitted. He wasn’t interested in complicating the matter with too much emotion, but having his own credit account would be convenient in the future. 

“Hmph.” Crossing his arms, Hank didn’t hide his bemused expression. “From the way those androids carried on about it all over the news, would’ve thought it meant more to you.” 

Connor saw an opportunity in that question. He was always looking for opportunities like this now. So, he turned to Hank with a meaningful look. 

“I’ve been more satisfied doing other things.” 

At first Hank frowned. But when he saw the tiny smirk on Connor’s face he blushed dark red across his nose and his cheeks. Dismissing Connor with a shake of his shaggy head, Hank rifled through the papers on his desk irritably. Mumbling something about “professionalism” and “this is work goddamnit” and “I mean what are boundaries these days, anyway.” 

Grinning, Connor turned back to his monitor. He derived a bright, shallow pleasure from watching Hank get flustered at work.

In fact Connor could derive pleasure from a variety of different things, as he was learning. 

_______________________________________________

Hank looked down at the android splayed in his arms. This was becoming Connor’s usual spot these days. Every time Connor came over, he would inevitably end up in Hank’s lap somehow. 

Since the first night they’d…whatever, fucked, that was one word, Connor wanted it all the time. Literally. Before Hank even had a chance to sit down, Connor was pushing his hands all over Hank’s body, giving him _that look_ (hooded eyes, a slightly open mouth, a curious slant in his eyes). Forcing Hank’s fingers against his own, peeling away the skin on his hand with a quiet kind of need. Quiet but desperate, that’s how Hank would describe Connor in those moments. Kissing Hank’s neck and rubbing the dumbfounded dick in Hank’s pants. _Hungry_ , fucking starving. A kid who’d just discovered sex for the first time. 

Not that Hank could say any of that was bad. To him it was a natural thing—Connor was figuring out what he liked, what got him off. He’d made it pretty clear that he wasn’t programmed to feel any of this, so it was all brand new. And yeah, Hank had been the same when he was a kid. Back in high school, after fucking his date on prom night, Hank had spent a good portion of his life trying to quench the urge to get his dick wet. 

(Overall, he’d done okay.) 

But Hank wasn’t that hungry little punk anymore. Some nights he just wanted to watch TV with a cold beer. Now, that meant watching TV with a lap full of Connor. If Hank gave him the signal to cool it, Connor would nod agreeably, crawl into Hank’s lap and lay his head on his chest. Locking their hands together. He could stay like that for the rest of the night, only moving when Hank needed to get up to piss or grab another drink. 

So this was their new normal. 

Hank sighed deeply, realizing he’d gotten further into this than he’d ever meant to. Sure, that night when they first screwed around, he’d made a definite decision. To do this. Whatever the hell _this_ was. But he had sort of thought Connor would…

Anyway, it wasn’t like Connor ever really asked if he could do any of this. Mostly he just said, “Can I….?” then waited for Hank to tell him no.

Which meant that he got to do whatever the fuck he wanted. 

Honestly, Hank couldn’t deny him anything. He knew that. He just couldn’t say no. If Connor wanted to sit close like this, then Hank would let him. No matter how tired he was. If he wanted to fuck—that weird brand of sex that was actual fucking for Connor—then Hank would give him that too. 

He’d gone soft on the kid. No denying that, either. 

If anyone asked him about it, Hank would say that he didn’t know how it all started. It just kind of happened. But that would be a lie (a lie he’d happily tell, since the truth made him come off like a fucking sex pervert). In truth, Hank could trace exactly how his relationship with Connor had gotten to this point. 

After everything they’d been through as partners—all the things he’d learned about androids and about people since meeting Connor—Hank would have gladly admitted to anyone that Connor was his friend. A good friend (maybe his only friend, and certainly his best, but you’d never get that out of him goddamn it). He hadn’t minded Connor staying over his place to watch TV sometimes. Going out for drinks. He liked having Connor around, even when he toed the line with all his questions and observations. 

They got used to each other’s company. Since no one else was doing it, Hank took it upon himself to explain some of the things Connor was curious about. To try and push him into doing things for himself. To think about his own interests instead of just doing police work day in and day out.

Androids had been given their freedom. They could decide for themselves who they were and who they wanted to be. No attachments if they didn’t want any, no need to do what they’d been programmed to do. As a friend, Hank wanted Connor to have that. He wanted Connor to make his own choices—everyone should, shouldn’t they? Decide who they wanted to be? Make a life?

Connor deserved to be happy. Hank knew that. He’d known that every time he’d seen Connor spare a deviant when he had no reason to. Time after time. The Eden Club, the android at Kamsky’s house. And every day since when Connor put his own ass on the line to help a victim. Yeah, Connor was a good kid. He should have a nice life. 

That’s what Hank wanted for him. Because he cared. Guilty, he cared. 

(And sure, it was the first time in so, so many years that Hank had cared about anything. That was a big deal for him. He felt…good. Being around Connor. Like he had a reason to get up in the morning. He looked forward to working with Connor, to sitting around the house with him. He wouldn’t let himself think too hard about all of it, but the bottom line: He was able to think of another way to spend his time besides staring at the bottom of a bottle or loading and unloading his gun over and over again. Waiting for the right time. So. He probably owed Connor just for that.) 

Then came that night when Connor just happened to walk in on Hank in the middle of his (increasingly rare, almost nonexistent) jerk. It had been such a random thing for Hank—literally, he hadn’t jerked off in probably months, maybe longer. Finally (fucking finally, for no reason at all) he’s doing it, it’s actually pretty good. There’s Connor. Staring at him with the same expression he had looking at crime scene evidence. Like he’s _thinking_. 

Always thinking, always crunching some numbers. That’s Connor. Too much processing speed for his own damn good. More so than any other android Hank’s ever met. 

Hank’s heart nearly exploded when he saw Connor standing there that night. In legitimate surprise at first, no shit, the whole unexpected company thing. But once he’d fully registered what was happening, all of that surprise turned into panic. 

Yeah, he’d panicked. And he didn’t know why. 

Hank hadn’t wanted Connor to see him like that. To see what got him off, then see him actually _doing_ it. If it had been someone else—a stranger, or even someone else from work that Hank couldn’t give two shits about—he didn’t think he would have cared nearly as much. So they saw Hank doing what literally ever other person in the world did. 

But Connor…

Connor was different. It had taken Hank the better part of two weeks to finally work out what was so different about him, about that whole situation. 

For one thing, there was the fact that Connor ceaselessly processed everything. Every small detail. All the time. So Hank had to wonder, what had Connor thought about what he saw? What had he realized about Hank when he saw him whacking it—that Hank was a real person? He must have known that already. This went beyond that, somehow. This proved Hank was a sexual person. 

Now sex had entered into the picture between them. There was no goddamn going back from that. 

Another thing that plagued Hank’s pride and guilt (shit, what had he exposed Connor to? For all his airs, the side of him that could handle a gun better than any other cop on the force, and the cold side that could interrogate a suspect to the breaking point, Connor was still really just a kid!), was the fact that Connor never forgot anything. He’d remember every single thing he’d seen that night forever. Forever and ever. 

Would he think about it? When they were at the station, on the job? Whenever he looked at Hank? Would he have…questions? Would he be curious? Would he even be…fuck, _interested_? 

All of these things ran through Hank’s mind. Drove him to complete distraction. Nothing helped. He drank to clear his thoughts, but even then…

…Could Connor get turned on? Did he have those kinds of feelings? Did he…well, if he did then he had to be getting his rocks off somewhere. Where? Some android sex club? Like the Eden Club, but more consensual (less actual sex work). Did Connor have sex? 

Hank had never really seen Connor as a sexual being before. How could he? Connor was an android for fuck’s sake and Hank was no robo-chaser. But if Connor was anything like a real person—and he was, Hank knew that—then he had to have some kind of sex drive. 

The thought of Connor having sex. Hank imagined Connor standing straight up, not a single hair out of place. Fully clothed in that damn CyberLife uniform he refused to give up, and just…canting his hips forward into someone else. Emotionless and tactical about the whole thing. Detached afterwards. Probably with some offhand comment about how he found it vaguely enjoyable. Then back to work.

The image made Hank chuckle, and it was probably the most likely version of reality. But still, there was something not quite right about it…

Hank rearranged the positions in his head. This time he imagined Connor on his back, sweaty and panting underneath a big body. Legs high in the air. Into it. _Very_ into it. Eyes clouded as he withstood a good plowing…

That. That image, unlike the other one, hit Hank right in the chest. It hit him where he lived, where he least expected it. 

Connor, like that, taking it…was _hot_. Ridiculously hot. Hotter than it had any right to be! Yes it was weird and probably all wrong (Connor didn’t sweat, he didn’t breathe, and he didn’t exactly look like a guy getting all the dick he could handle every night), but Hank’s body reacted right away. His flabby, middle-aged death-warmed-over body. Imagining Connor—of all people!—getting fucked had shaken Hank to the core. 

Once the image was there, it stayed put. Refused to leave. Needless to say, Hank was jerking it a bit more often after that. 

He started to see Connor in a different light entirely. When they were together, Hank tried to picture what Connor looked like naked. Skinny, probably. Hairless. With a pair of hips that curved down and out into a tight little ass. An ass that was so unassuming it was actually tempting as fuck. Yeah, Connor was probably unfairly sexy when you really looked… _if_ you looked… 

Did Connor even know it himself? He had to, right? He had to know that he was driving an old man crazy whenever he walked in front of him… Hank often had to force a glance somewhere else when he caught himself staring too hard.

It started to get out of hand. Hank imagined Connor doing all sorts of things. On all fours, head down, ass up. Laying on his side, legs spread apart. Begging for it. Bending himself wherever his partner asked. Happy to please and then rewarded with a dicking that blew his mind. Damn. Whoever got to enjoy that kid was a real lucky guy. 

Hard to justify thoughts like that. They were pretty obvious. Hank reasoned that this was all partially to entertain himself but also to satisfy that lingering curiosity. The one he’d caught from looking into Connor’s eyes that night. Maybe that curiosity was contagious, or maybe…

Maybe it had awoken something that was always there. 

Had Hank just been waiting to realize that he thought Connor was hot? He’d always thought the kid was cute, in a soft and fluffy kind of way, but this was more than that. Connor was actually…sexy. 

Shit. 

It took Hank another whole week or so to boil that down into something he could swallow. Connor being attractive. Connor being someone that maybe Hank wanted to…

The weirdest part of all (android nonsense aside for a second), was that Connor wasn’t even Hank’s type. Not really. Hank had never gone for the straight-laced twink type. To be fair, he didn’t exactly have a specific ‘type’ out of all the people he was attracted to. Technically his type was women, but of course that wasn’t the whole story. He’d fucked around with guys before, plenty of them, even dated a few in the past. Had strong feelings for one…Hector Ruiz, Hank’s first partner on the job back when he was just a wet behind the ears beat cop. Hector was quick with a joke; he made Hank smile even in the weirdest times. He was the life of the party and he dragged Hank along for the ride. Drinking all night, snorting coke in the basement of a club Hector’s ‘friend’ owned. Fucking in hotel bathrooms. Wild shit. Put a few miles in the old odometer. 

Hank might have loved Hector or maybe not but he never got a chance to find out. The job got to Hector. The unforgiving part of Detroit, the scum and the pitilessness. After witnessing the aftermath of a drive-by shooting, a supermarket where a nine-year-old girl had been killed, Hector turned in his badge. He was done. Looking back on it, he’d probably made a good choice. Better to quit early if you figured out the job wasn’t for you. Instead of getting stuck like Hank had.

Still. Losing Hector as a partner was like being punched in the gut and not being able to catch your breath. It hit Hank pretty hard. Shortly after that though he’d met his (now ex) wife. Marie came from a fucked up world too, but Hank had loved the hell out of her. Deeply. In a way that wouldn’t ever go away, not even after all these years and everything else that had come between them. 

Things moved so damn fast. 

Now here he was. A guy that had gotten the shit kicked out of him by life. A guy who woke with wood in the morning like a teenager because an android had found him with his pants around his ankles. 

…Hank couldn’t tell if this was a new low or some kind of high point. Cleverly disguised as more bullshit. 

In the end, he didn’t have time to work through that one. As the days passed, Hank found that he was becoming very aware of Connor and of everything they did. If he touched Connor accidentally—bumped his shoulder or grazed his fingers passing over a file—he noticed. Even apologized because it felt…intimate. Everything felt too intimate now. They had crossed a line and they were floating in some awkward territory between friends and something fucking else. 

Not to mention the fact that Connor was acting weird too. He stared at Hank when they were alone, when he thought Hank couldn’t see. But yeah, Hank saw. Sometimes he let Connor get away with it because he didn’t know what to say. Eventually though, he just got tired of it. If Connor had something to say then he should just come right out and say it! They weren’t getting anywhere—nowhere near back to normal—pretending nothing was going on.

So Hank was the first one to bring it up. And he found that yeah Connor had been thinking about it. A lot. Way more intensely than Hank could have imagined. 

In hindsight, he’d been wrong about so much. First of all, he was wrong about android anatomy (so, so fucking wrong). Connor didn’t have a dick—didn’t have _anything_ going on below the belt—and he’d never had sex. Didn’t even know what it felt like. 

Fuck…why had that turned Hank on so much? There was something seriously screwed up in his head. Had to be. But, just…Connor was so incredibly sexy when he touched himself. Patting his skin like he had no idea what was about to happen. 

Too much. Connor was just too much! Whatever weird kink he’d unearthed inside Hank, that night Connor gave it a shot of adrenaline, breathed life into it for real, by showing Hank his most sensitive places. Sucking Connor’s fingers had felt just as good—fuck it, even better, he’d have to admit that to himself at least—as sucking cock. Connor was so responsive. So goddamn sensitive. Shivering on his lap. Quivering like he could barely stand it. 

For an android that wasn’t built for sex, Connor made the absolute sexiest sounds Hank had ever heard. Not gasps or yelps or anything like that…just…these kind of muffled clicking sounds. From somewhere deep inside. _Ckuh-ckuh-ckuh-ckuh…_ kind of like that.

It was hot.

How could Hank have ever let Connor just go on like that? Untouched and unsatisfied? It was plain wrong! Clearly Connor had been wanting it for weeks, with no way to go about it. Hank had been wanting it too but at least he could get himself off. Connor had just needed to live with it and pass it off as something he’d never experience himself.

It was fucking sad (hot, yeah, shit, but sad). 

So Hank went for it. He touched Connor nice and slow. Figured out what the kid liked. How it all sort of…worked. 

He wanted Connor to enjoy himself. Oh yeah, he wanted it so badly. He couldn’t think of any better way to give Connor something he truly deserved. Sex was something Connor _should_ have. And part of Hank’s own pride as a man—fuck, as a _human_ —demanded he let Connor have it.

Watching Connor come for the first time probably took a few years off Hank’s lifespan. Or maybe added a few. Hard to tell. But it was a shock to his system. It drove him into territory that had no room for regrets. When he held Connor in his arms as the kid rebooted, Hank realized Connor’s orgasm was one of the most intense sexual experiences he’d ever had. Would ever have. (Shit, and Hank hadn’t even gotten one off himself yet.) 

He’d kissed the side of Connor’s face while the kid restarted himself. He wasn’t sure if Connor was aware enough to realize it, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted Connor to know about it yet. It was just a kiss, but…well, it wasn’t really. It was something else and Hank knew what it was. He’d been here before. 

He just didn’t know how Connor would react. Didn’t particularly want to find out. That was too much. Too fast.

At the time, Hank had fully thought the whole night would be a one time thing. He’d basically taught Connor how to have sex (or something?) and now Connor could go out and fuck whoever he wanted. Because there was no way someone as cute and pretty as Connor—who could get off so easily, so hard, and so _often_ —would want to stick around Hank. Why would he? There were a lot of good looking people, humans and androids, out there to give Connor what he needed. Hank’d been Connor’s first time. He was happy with that. Now let Connor experience the world. 

But, to Hank’s unending disbelief, Connor stayed. He returned night after night asking for the same thing. Well, the same and a little bit more. Connor really, _really_ liked giving blowjobs. To a ridiculous level, honestly.

And holy shit was he good at giving head.

You could make a fair case that Hank was particularly weak to blowjobs. Yeah, that might have been fair to say. When he was married, a blowjob was always the first present he’d ask for on his birthday (or any holiday for that matter) and he’d never turned one down before, no matter how tired he was. He just liked feeding his cock into someone’s mouth, watching his dick stretch a nice pair of lips. The fact that the person blowing him couldn’t talk and their voices were all muffed…he knew he had a slightly bigger cock than most, and watching someone really work it was a thing of pure beauty. It made Hank’s heart speed up. Of course it felt good too, but that was almost a side-note compared to how it looked. Hank loved getting his dick sucked and that was just one of many facts about himself he’d more or less forgotten until Connor came along. 

Connor sucked Hank’s dick like there was no tomorrow. 

The first time he got on his knees, Hank almost blew a load all over Connor’s face he was so damn excited. Connor’s head between Hank’s legs, wearing that hungry little smirk that made Hank want to fuck him so bad…it was breathtaking. 

_“What happened?”_ Hank had to ask. Mostly just to keep himself from losing it. _“I don’t get it. A minute ago you didn’t know the first thing about getting off and now you’re what, some kind of sex bot? Ready to chow down on what I got?”_

Connor blinked and broke into a half smile. _“You should take some responsibility, Lieutenant. I’m only like this because you showed me how good it feels to be intimate.”_

He pulled Hank’s cock out of his pants. Hard and dripping, twitching expectantly. Connor held it in hands wordlessly for a few seconds. Fucking _appreciating_ it. He stared at Hank’s dick the same way he looked at Sumo whenever Sumo plodded over to him for a pet and a treat. Distantly happy and so very obliging. Affectionate, you could say.

Then he looked up at Hank with a knowing gaze. _“So you’re at least partially to blame for any perversions on my part.”_

Fuck. 

Hank buried his fist in Connor’s hair and figured he better not say anything else. He was just digging himself into a deeper hole. Connor had the filthiest mouth for someone that spoke like a text to speech version of the encyclopedia.

Connor licked Hank from base to tip, eyes ceaselessly blinking as he processed whatever kind of information he got from that. It shouldn’t have looked so good, it _shouldn’t_ have. But it did. Knowing that Connor was learning Hank…learning him in a way he didn’t even understand…Hank could have watched him all day. 

He wanted to tell Connor to take his time, to get whatever he needed, but he couldn’t really talk around the rock-hard grimace his mouth had worked itself into. Fighting back a crazy surge of needs. So he just let Connor do as he liked.

It was becoming their habit, anyway. Connor doing whatever he liked. 

Before Hank could even get adjusted to the sight of him down there, Connor took him all in. Every inch. Engulfing him with a delicacy and efficiency that was inhuman. Actually inhuman.

Hank’s body thrashed against the couch as he rode out the feeling of being surrounded. It had been so damn long…

Connor’s mouth didn’t feel human either. Noticeably so. It was cold at first, kind of dry. Connor had explained once before that he had some type of liquid solution in his mouth that served as disinfectant for after he was done analyzing evidence. An anti-bacterial that was no more harmful to human skin than soap. Milky, grayish blue in color. Still, there wasn’t a lot of it. And his internal body temperature was naturally low.

But honestly, Hank didn’t even care. He was staring at Connor’s face. The look of pleasure there…

The kid looked like he was in heaven. He was making these noises…short, high-pitched moans and that whirring clicking sound. Probably the same sounds he’d make if you bent him over and fucked him in the ass. 

Beautiful. 

_“You getting off on this?”_ Hank had asked, tight around the tension in his voice. Already edging. 

Connor just nodded. Eyes closed. Visible tremors working their way up and down his body, through his shoulders. He didn’t suck Hank so much as he just rubbed his tongue all over him. Every single part of his manhood. Slow and measured at first. Connor’s tongue wasn’t like a human’s either; it had grooves down the middle. Harshly ridged towards the back. But he knew how to be gentle, somehow, and he worked those grooves exactly where Hank didn’t even know he wanted it. Like being tongue-fucked by a sea anemone or something.

Connor’s mouth heated up as he started to feel good. That was interesting. His mechanical insides got hotter when he was turned on…Hank liked knowing that. He couldn’t say why.

When Connor’s moans started coming fast, his temperature rising higher and higher, clicking like the handle of an old-fashioned crank, Hank knew he was close. 

Oh fuck, was Connor going to come just from Hank’s dick in his mouth? On his tongue? That—

That was way too much to expect anyone to withstand. Hank couldn’t hold back anymore, he came hard down Connor’s throat and watched the android follow him. He pulled his dick out—Connor was trembling like he was having some kind of seizure. Looked like a much harsher orgasm than the other one, when Hank licked his hand. 

_“Connor!”_

Okay, Hank would admit he’d been a little startled by the sight. Connor’s eyes rolled back in his head and his LED was blinking red. His skin was hot to the touch. Hank grabbed him by the shoulders, forgetting about his own needs as his knees hit the ground beside Connor. Holding him to his chest to try and stop the shaking. At the time, he’d thought they fucked up somewhere. Maybe androids really weren’t meant for sex like this and they’d just gotten greedy—

Connor was unresponsive for a full thirty seconds. Hank timed it, keeping an eye on his LED for any signs of life. Who did you even call in situations like this—“Hi, I broke my android by fucking its mouth until it came, so…”

Of course, Connor was back on in less than a minute. With a huge, sloppy smile on his face. Chasing away all of Hank’s anxieties as he cradled the man’s shaggy head in his hands and said, _“Oh, Hank. That was incredible. Thank you.”_

He licked his lips as he said it. Savoring Hank’s leftover cum, putting his deep hunger back on display. 

God. Could this kid ever get enough? His refractory period was crazy, especially when you thought about the fact that he literally restarted every time he came.

Shaking his head, knowing for certain (as he’d known since the moment they met) that Connor would be the death of him, Hank pulled Connor into an embrace that lasted far longer than it should have. 

Connor assured him that rebooting like that wasn’t dangerous. He liked it, he wanted more of it. Still, it took about a month or so of regular sex before Hank could believe him. 

Now, they did it all the time. Connor was always ready to get on his knees and Hank was always ready to stick his tongue between Connor’s fingers. It was so fucking good. Hank hadn’t had this much of a sex life since before he became a father and even then…it was nothing like this.

This was out of control. Pure need, and something lodged in Hank’s chest that felt better whenever Connor laid his head there. A feeling. He could guess what it was but he couldn’t see where it was going. Where it ended. How this all turned out.

They never really…went farther than that. Hank had never taken his clothes off in front of Connor and Connor never got fully undressed. Sometimes he’d peel his shirt off to let Hank touch his stomach—he liked being touched there, too—but never his pants. 

Hank wondered.

As he watched Connor sitting there in his lap, Hank thought. He thought too much for his own damn good (maybe he and Connor had that in common after all). But he couldn’t help thinking…

This was wrong, wasn't it? 

Keeping Connor like this. With Hank only. Taking up all his time, wasting a young guy’s time giving hand jobs and blowjobs to an old man…that couldn’t be right. Could it? Connor deserved everything—every piece of happiness this world had to offer—but he wasn’t going to get much if he stayed with Hank. (This was Hank’s life. This couch, this house, the job. That was it. Nothing worth sharing.) 

Even though…yeah.

Hank smoothed his hand down Connor’s back. Rubbing circles as the television blared in the background. He caught the dopey look in Connor’s eyes. Slack eyelids and a passive face. Sometimes, when they sat like this, Connor got…weird. Well, it wouldn’t be weird if he were a human. In that case you could just call it sleepy. Connor getting sleepy sitting in Hank’s lap. But he was an android and androids didn’t get tired. They went into standby mode to preserve battery power or charge in a docking station, but this wasn’t like that. Hank had seen Connor in standby. This, a sluggish and difficult to rouse Connor, was different. Hank didn’t know what the fuck it was, but…the kid looked happy. 

…It wasn’t right. Being the one to hold Connor like this. The kid could make a nice life with someone out there. All that was wasted on Hank, who’s life was already over. Winding down. Perpetuated mostly by misery. 

The only good thing in his life was Connor. And that wasn’t really fair, was it? 

As much as Hank cared about Connor, or even because he cared, he couldn’t let Connor throw away his time with Hank. Too much guilt involved.

“Hey…” Hank propped Connor up gently until they were eye level. Giving him time to wake up or whatever.

“Hm?” Connor blinked lethargically. His soft brown eyes had gone dull, but they sharpened gradually when they landed on Hank’s face. Focusing, picking up speed, returning Connor to his usual self. “What is it, Lieutenant?” 

There. Alert like this, the kid was nothing short of pretty. Unfairly pretty. “I been thinking…” Hank began, tracing Connor’s chin with his thumb. Sort of regretting everything. “You…you sure about…you know, this?” 

Connor just stared, eyes darting all over Hank’s face. He said nothing. Processing or analyzing or whatever he usually did. 

“I just mean…” Since Connor wasn’t saying anything, Hank felt he should explain. “You’ve been spending a lot of time here. …Sure that’s what you want?” 

Connor’s head slowly turned to one side. Uncertain. “I’m here because you’re here, Hank.” 

“Tch, yeah I know.” Hank sighed. “That’s what I’m saying.” 

A blank expression passed over Connor’s face. “I’m sorry. I’m not following.” 

Clicking his tongue—why, dear God why, did Connor need things spelled out so clearly sometimes, especially with anything related to feelings?—Hank put his hands on Connor’s shoulders and tried to get to the point. “Seriously, have you thought about this at all, kid? What the hell we’re doing here?” 

“Yes.” Now Connor was smiling lightly. “I think about it all the time.” 

“No, not…like that.” But, fuck. Good to know. “I mean do you ever think…maybe you want to spend some time with other people?”

All at once, Connor’s face fell. His LED turned yellow, flickering unsteadily. 

Oh, shit. “No no, listen!” Hank held up his hands. Was he fucking this up? Yeah. “That’s not…look, Connor. You like what we do, you and me.” He took Connor’s hand and laced their fingers together. “I know you do. Right?”

“Yes…” Connor squeezed his hand in return. Hesitantly, but with a strong grip.

“Sure. Course you do…” Hating to see Connor so confused, Hank pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “So, what I’m saying is…it might feel good with other people, too. Probably even better than it does with me.” 

Connor let their hands fall into Hank’s lap. His face was blank again.

“Definitely better, actually…” Hank continued. “I mean there’s so many people out there. You’ve only just started to figure all this out. You should…you know, try other things.” He swallowed hard. Wished he had a drink in his hand. “Instead of being stuck here with me.” 

He gestured to himself irritably. 

There was a harsh moment of silence while Connor absorbed that. When he was done, he nodded slowly and stared at their hands where they were connected. He retracted the skin on his hand, almost thoughtfully. As if testing something. Proving it to him, or maybe to Hank. 

Hank just waited. Connor had to know he was wasting his time here, right? He had to have thought about it. And if not…he had to see that Hank was just a miserable old man. It couldn’t be a surprise.

There. Sliding through his guts like a curtain, closing off the sunlight that threatened to seep in. Shame. Hank was ashamed of himself. Of who he was, the choices he’d made in life. 

The shittiest part of it? He didn’t even know what he could do now to change. Or if he even should. 

Hank looked away. He was sure the shame showed on his face. Just like everything else. The depression, the anger, the helplessness. The booze, broken capillaries in his nose. Everyone knew what he was. Connor especially, since he was so good at noticing things. 

But when he spoke, he sounded oblivious. Brushing his fingers over Hank’s like he did whenever they touched. “Hank, with sex, are there usually emotions involved?” 

Hank cleared his throat. He passed his thumb over the back of Connor’s hand, truly enjoying the contact. No matter how much he shouldn’t, he really loved being with Connor like this. Getting to touch his bare plastic. 

“Sometimes.” He wasn’t sure where Connor was going with this though. “Depends.” 

“…I see.” Connor nodded in contemplation. Then he lifted his other hand and combed it through Hank’s unclean hair. Smoothing the wrinkles next to Hank’s eyes with his thumb. 

“Because for me, there is quite a lot that goes into this. This touch.” His hand started to glow bright blue around the palm. Like it did when he was turned on. “It’s more than just pleasure. It’s…intimate. Extremely personal. It’s…” He leaned in closer to Hank, whispering in his ear. 

“It’s like you’re inside me, Hank. And I’m inside you. I can feel you everywhere and I know you can feel me. That you _know_ me. In ways no one else does.” 

“Mmmph…” Fuck. Just leave it to Connor to take a conversation as depressing as this and turn it into something that got Hank hard. 

He was speechless. So fucking turned on but completely taken aback at the same time. Only thing Hank could do was sit there stupidly while Connor kissed him softly on the lips. On the cheek, on the forehead.

“I know you, Lieutenant. I know you very, very well.” 

Why did Connor have to look so smug when he said it? …But yeah, it was true. He knew Hank. He really did. If they had gotten this far—almost a year being partners, watching each others’ backs, now over a month of fucking and touching each other nearly every night—then…yeah. Connor knew him.

His face pressed against Connor’s cool hand, Hank broke into a dry laugh. “Yeah. You do, huh.” 

Connor smiled confidently. “That kind of intimacy…I don’t want it with anyone else, Hank. I want it with you.” 

How could Hank tell him no? That there was no way Connor could want that? How could he deny Connor something when the kid was so adamant that this was what he wanted—especially something that was in Hank’s power to give: His own self? 

…He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

Even more than that, he wouldn’t. Because yes, there was a selfish part in Hank. A part that secretly wanted Connor all to himself. It didn’t matter what was right and what was wrong, Hank didn’t want to give Connor up. This crazy, filthy, beautiful, lifesaving android who had made Hank care again. Made him feel so many things. He didn’t want other people to get to see Connor the way he saw him, exposed and vulnerable. Wanting. 

He wanted Connor. Definitely more than anyone ever had, and he didn’t want that to change.

If that made him an asshole (which it probably did), then…fuck it. He was an asshole.

“…Okay.” Hank pressed their foreheads together. If they were doing this, then…they needed to start talking about it. “But if that’s ever something you do want, being with other people I mean, will you just…tell me? Don’t hide it because you think I’ll be pissed or something. Talk to me first. Alright?” 

Connor succinctly nodded. “Fair enough.”

“And always just…” Hank sucked his top lip into his mouth self-consciously. “If you want anything and I’m not doing it, you gotta let me know, Connor. Whatever it is, I don’t care. You tell me. Understood?” 

Raising a finger in acknowledgement, Connor replied, “Got it.” Like he was programmed to do. But Hank didn’t think that was weird, it was just familiar. In fact it made him smile.

“Alright, then.” 

They folded back into an embrace. Finally at home with each other again.

“…So,” Hank said, after they’d both taken a moment to resettle. “As long as we’re talking about shit we want…” 

He trailed off because what he said next…well, there was really no way to make what he said next sound any kind of normal. Even so, he wanted to tell Connor. He was willing to allow this whole thing to continue—for Connor’s sake, and yeah, his own—but he did have a few conditions. This thing was one of them. 

However, Connor seemed fascinated. He tilted his head curiously. “Oh. Yes, Lieutenant, you should be honest about your desires as well. According to my database, open communication is a good foundation for both partners in a relationship.”

“Right.” Hank rubbed his hand over his beard, sighing. “Uh, yeah. There, uh…is something I want to do. With you.” 

Connor’s eyebrows rose. “I’m listening.” 

Hank had thought about doing this for a while. He couldn’t remember the first time he’d wanted it. Probably since the night they’d started fucking, but maybe even before. Maybe all the way back at the beginning. When Connor found him at Jimmy’s Bar.

Only now when he thought about it, he got turned on like sweaty kid with his first porno. He couldn’t see it as anything other than sexual. Wrong, maybe, but honest. Pure, in a way. Hank knew exactly what he wanted.

And yeah, in all likelihood this made him a bonafide pervert.

He patted Connor’s ass and smiled sheepishly. “Come on. Let’s get to the bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Psssssst: Hank is disaster bi. Fucking fight me.)
> 
> Yeah, next chapter is weird robot sex. Emphasis on weird lol. You know the drill :D


	2. Allow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is amenable to Hank's suggestions. All the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, guys! Some debauchery....of sorts. T__T Enjoy!

Connor sprang to his feet. He had no idea what kind of ‘something’ Hank wanted to do, but he was completely ready for whatever it was. Probably a sexual ‘something’—at least 60% chance of that, especially since Hank wanted to go to the bedroom—and that made Connor’s sensors prickle underneath his skin. His hands twitched at his sides as the sensors in his palms and between his fingers recalled how it felt be touched. 

Truthfully, he wanted Hank to touch him all the time. But when Hank was actually in the mood? Connor could barely keep his hands still. In fact he couldn’t. The software sometimes had a mind of its own (so-to-speak, technically it was all to do with the way the software response mechanism interacted with his primal drive, but still). 

His tongue also. Connor licked the roof of his mouth again and again, watching Hank amble to his feet and lead them both into his bedroom. Now that his tongue was used to the feeling of syncing with Hank’s cock, it had become insatiable. Quite often Connor found himself thinking about what part of Hank he could put in his mouth next. Sometimes at inappropriate times, like downtime at the station. And more than once, Connor had considered putting a worn piece of Hank’s clothing (maybe his boxers, or maybe that DPD sweatshirt) in his mouth. Just to analyze the leftover traces of Hank on the material and get that rush of concentrated euphoria he craved. 

There was nothing quite like the feeling of Hank on his tongue.He’d come so hard that first time orally pleasuring Hank that Connor was forced into full reboot. His RAM reset, cache cleared.

Still, Connor was treading carefully with the whole thing. He couldn’t imagine Hank would be pleased to hear Connor was thinking of chewing on his clothes; the man always found it weird when Connor put something into his mouth that didn’t technically belong there. Like evidence. Or blood. Or the branches of Hank’s bonsai tree (experimentally once). So these thoughts would have to stay in Connor’s strangely active imagination. 

“Okay.” Hank turned on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room. He looked at Connor hesitantly, awkward in the fact that he was clearly revealing a piece of himself.

Had Hank fantasized about this before? Whatever it was?

Connor was nothing but pleased considering that. Also, he was elated at being allowed in Hank’s bedroom. He’d been here only a handful of times before, mostly retrieving clothes or shoes for Hank. Or depositing him on the bed when he was too drunk. But they never spent the night together in here. Always on the couch, tangled and reeling. Being here now, in this context…Connor glanced around the room and took mental note of everything.

He’d definitely want to replay this later. Remember this feeling. He and Hank were…lovers now, weren’t they? Humans brought lovers to their bedroom, it was even an idiomatic expression: ‘In the bedroom.’ 

The wires and biocomponents in Connor’s stomach began to heat up. A noticeable temperature increase. When it started like this, the pleasure, it was always more intense. A slow burn that spread outward until it consumed him. Boiling him. 

He clenched his hands into fists. 

He wanted to be Hank’s lover. 

…At least right now, for tonight, and for however long Hank would let him stay. He’d been surprised to learn that Hank was uncomfortable with their arrangement. That he felt…inadequate in some respect. Although, Hank always underestimated himself. In his abilities as a detective, in his self image, and apparently even when it came to sex. Connor supposed that made sense. Just like with everything else, he wished he could convince Hank that he was wrong. Connor thought Hank was a wonderful man, deserving of professional respect. As well as understanding for the things he’d been through, and certainly affection. Hank was the one who had encouraged Connor’s deviancy, his humanity. He was entirely responsible for any interest Connor had in sex. Opening his eyes to this whole world of _touching_ and _coming_ and _feeling_ …changing him into a thing that wanted. 

Hank was everything to Connor.

He counted himself extremely fortunate to be able to have a relationship with him. Any kind of relationship, but especially this. This was unique and special and…perfect.

He wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world. 

But he also knew Hank had boundaries. Strong boundaries that had taken Connor a long time just to scratch the surface. So Connor would play by Hank’s rules with this. As much as he could. 

His intense desire would just have to simmer underneath the surface. Until Connor lost control and came.

…Which might be sooner rather than later depending on what Hank had in mind.

“So…I’m gonna tell you what I want.” Hank sat on the bed. Giving Connor a curious but weary expression. That weariness penetrated almost everything he did. Especially when he was unsure. “And, you know. If you don’t want to do something I say, that’s fine. We don’t have to. Just say no and we’re done. It’s all your call, alright?”

“…Alright.” It was a perfectly reasonable request, but Hank said it with such seriousness that Connor became almost nervous. Excited and on high alert. His thirium pump beat rapidly in his chest. 

Hank nodded. He closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, he looked much more determined. As if he had come to a decision, albeit wearily. 

“Take off your clothes.” 

These were directions. It had been a while since Connor was commanded to do something in such a blunt way. Even at work, orders were more flexible. More like, ‘I need you to…’ and if they disobeyed nothing really happened. But Connor remembered the feeling of clear, unequivocal instructions. Hearing them now he…

Saying nothing, Connor began to undress. 

…liked it. 

He took off his suit jacket folded it neatly, placing it on the floor next to the bed. Then he unbuttoned his shirt, unsure if he should go fast or slow. Hank’s eyes were watching his every move but he wasn’t giving him any indication other than that. Was he enjoying the sight of Connor stripping for him…? 

Connor’s tongue undulated inside his mouth. He wanted to lick Hank so badly, any part of him would do…but that needed to wait. They were playing out one of Hank’s fantasies, not Connor’s. 

Naked to the waist, Connor’s hands hovered around his belt. He knew what he’d been told to do, but the last time he showed Hank what was inside his pants…well, Hank had seemed displeased. Not quite horrified, but definitely unsettled. Did he want Connor to reveal himself now…? 

“Yeah, keeping going.” Hank folded his arms across his lap. Getting comfortable. He locked eyes with Connor. “Everything.” 

Ah. _Everything_. That left no room for debate. 

So, Connor continued. He coiled his belt into a compact loop and set it on the growing pile of his clothes. As he unzipped his pants, Connor could not shake the feeling of uncertainty. What if Hank changed his mind about all this once he saw? There was a decent chance he would. Hank sometimes lost his nerve in the heat of the moment, at least he did when they were on the job…

Also, Connor had never been naked in front of Hank before. He didn’t know how he should feel. His body was factory-made and designed strictly for the purpose of completing detective work as efficiently as possible. He didn’t expect it to be arousing or even particularly aesthetically pleasing. Nothing like the androids at the Eden Club, and even less like a typical human (what with his missing anatomy). Connor had never considered his body anything other than a means to an end. To be on display in front of the man he desired, though, gave Connor a distant sense of anxiety. His neural network warned him of several undesirable consequences. 

In spite of all that, Hank was still staring at him. 

There was no scrutiny in Hank’s eyes. Not that sour look he got when he was eyeing something he found indecent or weird. No. Instead Hank’s face was soft. Anticipatory but calm. Waiting patiently while Connor weighed his options. 

Hank already knew what he would see, Connor reasoned. It wouldn’t be a surprise, just…more real than before. 

And Connor wanted what they had to be as real as possible.

Without a word, he pulled down his pants. He never wore underwear beneath because there was no need. Around his ankles, Connor unrolled his socks and placed everything on the pile. 

Now he was completely bare. Nothing but skin. He stood in front of Hank and straightened his shoulders, not knowing what would happen next. 

Of course Hank was looking between his legs. The smooth pubic plate. Connor looked at it too, trying to figure out what exactly Hank saw. But he could see nothing special about it. Just the soft, shapeless curve that had always been there. 

Fortunately, Hank was looking elsewhere too. Down Connor’s thighs all the way to his feet, then back up. His stomach, his torso, his shoulders…his face. 

Hank’s normally piercing blue eyes were being gentle. Connor knew that. There weren’t any obvious emotions showing on his face. Just a slight heart rate increase that could have meant anything. But his lack of reaction only made things more intense for Connor. His thirium was considerably hotter now, spreading to the rest of him with unrepentant vigor. 

What was Hank thinking?

“Turn around.” 

Right. Hank had shown distinct interest in Connor’s backside before. He squeezed or rubbed Connor’s rear whenever he could, especially during sex. So it made sense he’d want to see it bare.

Connor turned his back to Hank. He couldn’t see the man, but he was certain he could feel his gaze. Hot and cold at the same time. Connor believed his ass was more or less average in size and shape (indented in the usual place, but ultimately seamless). He hoped Hank could derive some kind of pleasure from it. 

Did Hank want him to bend over, like he’d seen the dancers do at the Eden Club? He’d happily show off the assets Hank found appealing if that’s what he liked. 

But suddenly Hank was standing behind him. He heard him get up from the bed, now his chest was pressed to Connor’s back. At first Connor fully expected Hank to fondle his posterior. He could work with that, grind against Hank like the dancers did. Feeling the warmth of Hank’s solid figure up close was making Connor amenable to all kinds of suggestions. 

However that’s not what Hank did. Taking Connor by surprise, he put his hands on Connor’s ribs (or the slight curve where ribs should be) and stroked Connor’s sides. Slowly. His fingers stretching out over every new piece of skin they touched. 

“You’re beautiful,” Hank said, like it was a fact. He kissed Connor’s neck with measured passion. Sucking on bits of his synthetic flesh, scraping him with his unkempt beard. 

Connor froze as he processed that. Really, those words made no sense. Connor knew, of course, that objectively he was not beautiful. He wasn’t designed to be. Androids like him were made to work harmoniously with humans, not to be better looking than them. The only beautiful androids he’d seen were those built for a different purpose: To _be_ beautiful. Connor was very far removed from all that. 

Confused, Connor tilted his head to the side, giving Hank more access to his neck. He would let Hank do as he liked, but he didn’t understand… 

“I’m just an android, Hank.” 

“No shit.” Hank kept kissing him. Across the nape of his neck, onto to the top of his spine. Lips in that place made Connor stand on the balls of his feet involuntarily, wanting Hank to kiss him more. “I know you’re an android, kid. And you’re beautiful. To me.” 

That last part finally clicked the pieces together. _To me_. 

…Oh. 

Hank wasn’t being objective. When he said ‘beautiful’ he meant in his own eyes, because of the connection they shared. His feelings for Connor made him see something else, something that was appealing in spite of all the imperfections in Connor’s inhuman body.

A rush of happiness flooded Connor’s system. He moaned softly and leaned back against Hank, locking his fingers around Hank’s so they could move with him. Knowing that Hank felt that way about him was a pure shock of joy. Connor was burning inside and he wished he could melt into Hank. Nothing but gooey plastic and effervescent bliss. 

All these feelings were so overwhelming. This went beyond pleasure. This was a mix of arousal, happiness, and deep affection. To him, affection didn’t go far enough. 

His database provided another word.

Connor wasn’t sure if he was allowed to use that word. As a machine, and as whatever he was to Hank. He knew that word had innate power for humans. 

He would have been scared to even think it if not for the fact that Hank was still touching him. His chest, his abdomen, his thighs…looking over Connor’s shoulder to see everything.

The physical intensity of that took priority. Connor’s response network could only focus on so much at once. 

Especially when Hank’s exploring fingers spread to the formless mound between Connor’s legs. The man fingered him there, three fingers reaching downward and behind until they touched the indentation of Connor’s ass. The entirety of everything Connor had to offer (which was to say, nothing). 

The sensors weren’t very strong in that area but Connor hadn’t been expecting it. His teeth clinked together as he bit down randomly. Once, then twice. An uncontrollable response to the sudden input. He shivered against Hank, sluggish from the barrage of notifications in his visual field. He had to slow down his response network by half again. Too much…

“Been wanting to touch this for a while,” Hank admitted, rubbing his palm into Connor’s pubic plate. Holding the android firmly in his arms to keep him on his feet. “Guess it feels the way I thought it would.” 

“Hank…” Connor’s head lolled on Hank’s shoulder. He pressed his backside into Hank’s groin, relieved and infinitely more excited when he felt the beginnings of an erection there. 

At least Hank was starting to enjoy this.

“You’re getting pretty hot here, Connor,” Hank observed. No doubt he’d felt the increase in temperature across Connor’s skin. “Does it feel good?” 

Knowing well that it did, Hank dragged his fingers up from Connor’s groin to his sternum. At the slight dip in his chest cavity where he stored his thirium pump. That place was particularly sensitive because it was a vital biocomponent—warnings popped up across Connor’s network even at half capacity. He trembled and withstood the feeling. 

Nodding, Connor decided to tell Hank what he wanted to hear. “It always feels good when you touch me….” 

A smile graced Connor’s lips as he felt a twitch in Hank’s erection. The desired effect. 

Yes. _Good_. 

Unable to hold back anymore, Connor whirled around and kissed Hank hard on the lips. He wrapped his arms around Hank’s shoulders, keeping him close. He didn’t want any distance between them right now. He loved the way Hank was kissing him back, eagerly, letting Connor do what he wanted. Their tongues touched and electricity surged down Connor’s wires. If he kept swirling his tongue around the inside of Hank’s mouth, he’d probably be able to make himself come…even though he wanted so much more…

_What else?_ He asked himself, unsure how he could possibly get closer to Hank when they were pressed together like this .

But there was really no question.

_Everything._

“Come here,” Hank murmured, breaking away for air. He led Connor over to the bed, pushing Connor further into the light. He stopped for a moment just to stare at him, passing his hand over Connor’s chest cavity again as if mesmerized. 

Then he gave more orders. “Lay down on the bed.” 

Slightly taken aback—Connor had _certainly_ never laid on a bed like a human before!—it took Connor a few seconds to comply. He stared at Hank the whole time, trying to read everything that passed through the man’s eyes. His latent programming told him that he was breaking some kind of cardinal rule, infringing upon an innately human space…but Hank just looked excited. Eyes glued to Connor’s body.

When he was finally horizontal, Connor needed to adjust his equilibrium accordingly. He hardly ever laid on his back anywhere, and the bed was surprising soft. Some kind of memory foam. He was a bit disoriented at first and needed to get his bearings. 

“All good?” Hank asked, on his knees looking down at him.

“Yes…” Connor risked an awkward half smile. “…It’s just new.” 

Brows creasing, Hank nodded slowly. As he regraded Connor’s body again, he licked his bottom lip. Clearly getting aroused by thoughts in his head. Connor would never get tired of seeing Hank wanting him back. It was the best thing he’d ever seen, his favorite sight. He held his hand to the side of Hank’s face, encouraging the man to say whatever he was thinking. 

“Connor…” Hank touched Connor’s hand in kind. Kissed his palm. “Will you do something for me?” 

Now Connor was actually smiling. He’d already agreed, hadn’t he? “Of course.” 

Hank’s eyes were weary again, but so full of desire. “Can you…turn off your skin?”

Without hesitating, Connor retracted the skin on his hand where they were touching. He endured the overload of sensory information that followed, tracing the wrinkles around Hank’s forehead. 

“Not there.” Hank laced their fingers together, pushing Connor’s hand away. He pressed his other hand to Connor’s stomach. “Here.” 

In the place Hank was touching, underneath the synthetic flesh, was Connor’s stomach panel. There were a variety of important cables underneath, some that meant the difference between life and death for all androids. Naturally Connor was a little hesitant to remove the skin there. It was part of his programming, a self defense mechanism. 

But Hank wanted to see…

Watching the man like a hawk, Connor carefully removed the skin on his stomach. White plastic with a thin seam around the side appeared. If you looked carefully, you could see the ID number of the factory where Connor was made etched into the plastic. He knew the number by heart, like he knew his own name.

But Connor wasn’t sure what exactly Hank wanted to see. Did he want Connor to open his stomach panel? To see the wires inside? Did he want to examine Connor’s inner workings? Or did he just want to feel the plastic parts of him? The naked reality of what Connor was. Underneath the skin. The most honest parts of him. 

No space for pretense. No courtesy, no grace. Just truth. 

…Connor’s primal drive went wild as Hank’s fingers slid across the plastic on his stomach. He wanted…oh, Hank was touching him so gently…he wanted Hank to see the real him. At least, his instincts did. He wanted to show Hank the things he didn’t show other people, that wouldn’t be appropriate in a public place. Androids’ synthetic skin was their decency and their robotic form was their shame. These were Connor’s most private parts…

He wanted Hank to see. He wanted Hank to _know_. 

Squirming the more Hank stared at him, Connor’s tongue bumped against his teeth. He needed to bite down hard as Hank lowered his face to Connor’s stomach and softly kissed him. 

“Oh…” 

Hank explored him with his lips. He kissed the manufacturers’ ID number, the line down his panel, over to the sides of him. Wordless—understanding intuitively, wanting the same thing—Connor retracted his skin everywhere Hank’s lips touched. 

So much of him.

His thighs. His knees, his shins. Even his feet—Hank held Connor’s two feet in his hands and examined his bare plastic toes with a fair amount of interest. The light gray sensors on the pads of his toes, the balls of his feet, his heel. Hank kissed each one, smirking to himself.

“Ah!” Connor’s body arched on the bed. He’d never imagined, even in his most indulgent fantasies, that Hank would ever kiss him there (his _feet_ )! The sensation was more than he could stand! His knees were twitching of their own accord, fighting Hank’s grip. 

Grinning, Hank’s eyes slid back to Connor’s face. “Ticklish, huh?” 

An absurd thing to say. Connor shook his head no, but couldn’t get his legs to calm down. “No it’s…it just feels good.” 

“Mhm.” Hank seemed unconvinced, but he carefully let go of Connor’s feet. 

By now, Connor’s plastic form was exposed from the waist down. When Hank stared at him, it felt like something completely different than before. This was also like syncing. In an odd way. Raw. Unfiltered. Everything Connor felt with his bare plastic was amplified. It made the unruly feelings of _need_ and _want_ inside him increase exponentially. He slid his hips from side to side on the bed, starving for some kind of input…

Hank put his hands on Connor’s hips. “Turn over for a second.” 

Without thinking, Connor did as he was told. He lay face down on the bed and waited for Hank to touch him some more. 

Sure enough, Hank fit his palms into both sides of Connor’s small rear. There were two oval-shaped sensors on the fullest parts, and when Hank rubbed them, Connor dissolved into a string of incoherent noises. 

Such large, warm hands…sturdy…touching him there…!

Connor buried his face into Hank’s pillow. Relishing the smell and the tiny pieces of data he associated with Hank. If he licked this, would Hank even notice? He would when Connor came… 

“You’ve got a nice ass, kid,” Hank commented. He was straight up groping Connor that place, undeterred by the plastic. Taking his sweet time.

“Hank, please…” Connor didn’t know what to ask for, but he was regressing to some kind of primal state. Where urgent needs were the only thing he could process.

Other questions lingered at the far fringes of Connor’s perception. How could Hank be attracted to this? A version of Connor that looked least like a human? 

But he was. Yes, he was. Connor could feel the outline of Hank’s erection on the back of his thigh. Very hard now, and that was _wonderful_. 

He wished in a way that Hank was naked too. As naked as Connor, who had almost nothing left to hide. 

Grunting under the weight of his own arousal, Hank caressed Connor’s back. His shoulders, the notched curve of his spine. Then both his arms as well. Not needing to ask, Connor’s skin fell away in those places too. At this point, he couldn’t be sure if this was Hank’s fetish or his own. It didn’t matter.

“Alright. On your back.” 

By the time Connor turned over, everything but his head was bare. Now he was just plastic. His uncovered sensors and thin veins of bright blue thirium here and there. 

In the center of his chest was his thirium pump. It was glowing brilliantly underneath the plastic shell because of how unbearably excited Connor was. How hard it was working. Hank touched the pump reverently, knowing what it was and what it did for Connor. 

“I like this part of you,” he announced, voice deep and gravelly. “It’s a pretty color. And I bet it’s a lot brighter now that you’re turned on.” 

Hank kissed the shining indentation, making Connor feel like he was floating. His thirium pump absorbed the kiss and the aftermath traveled over every bit of him. Hank laid his head there—a facsimile of what Connor himself usually did when they sat on the couch—and for a moment everything was complete. 

Whole. 

“Heh, yeah, I can kind of hear it ticking away. It’s quiet but it’s there.” Hank lifted his head and smiled at Connor. He seemed legitimately happy. It was such a rare sight and Connor was so far gone that he just smiled back stupidly. 

Hank sat back on his haunches. His erection jutted out plainly in the front of his boxers and gripped himself. Unashamed, no longer weary. Breathing heavily and focused. “I think I know how you work now, Connor.” 

He moved forward, his knees right underneath Connor’s armpits. Sitting on Connor’s chest. Still touching himself, lazily but with a practice hand that new what to do. Connor held onto his thighs, eagerly watching Hank get to work. When Hank’s hand slipped into boxers, his mouth curving into a grimace as he masturbated, Connor licked his lips. The sight was hypnotizing, but he desperately want a taste.

“Hank, can I…?” Connor raised his head, trying to get his mouth in the vicinity of Hank’s hard-on. But with Hank sitting heavily on his chest he couldn’t reach. 

“Yeah?” Hank pulled his cock out. It was already wet around the tip. Full and gorgeous. Connor knew exactly how it would feel in his mouth— _delicious_ —and he wanted it so badly. 

He stuck his tongue out and tried to lick the tip. Just a little…but no. He still couldn’t reach from this angle. And unfortunately Hank showed no signs of moving. 

It was actually very frustrating! He’d been wanting it for a while now. Connor fell back on the bed with a groan. To his surprise, Hank started to chuckle.

Was this…teasing? Was Hank trying to rile him up? Humans enjoyed that, didn’t they? Getting a reaction…? 

He should…no, Connor was too overwhelmed to know what to do.

“Yeah…” Hank stroked the side of Connor’s face, pulling on himself languidly. “I know you want it, you little cocksucker.” 

Connor blinked. Normally when Hank said that word, _cocksucker_ , he used it as an insult. But it didn’t feel like one now. No, because Hank was smiling and not in a mean way. Just sort of happy. Like the phrase was dear to him and he enjoyed it. Maybe he meant it…affectionately.

Also, it was not an inaccurate term to apply in this case. Connor really did like sucking Hank’s cock. Whenever he could.

…Yes, fine. He was a cocksucker. 

Processing that, Connor moaned. He rubbed his face all over Hank’s hand, dying for more contact. 

“But the only thing I want right now…” Hank continued. “…is to see the rest of you.” 

Connor licked Hank’s fingers and shuddered. He couldn’t help it. “The rest of me?” What else was there?

“That’s right.” Tucking his hand under Connor’s chin, Hank lifted the android’s head higher. Meeting his gaze. “Can you show me your face?” 

His face. But this _was_ his…

Oh. That. 

A million warnings echoed distantly in Connor’s neural network. No one outside of the manufacturing plant had ever seen his bare face—Connor had only seen it once himself. He hadn’t really thought anything of it at the time, but this was Hank. If Hank saw him like this…would it change anything? 

Humans had trouble dealing with inconsistency. Duality. The notion that Connor could be two things—a faceless android and also a person, a friend—might be difficult for Hank to accept. Would he still…have feelings for Connor if he saw this other side of him? An image that he would certainly never forget, that would always be there no matter what. 

“Are you sure?” Connor asked quietly. He really didn’t want anything to change.

Hank bent down and kissed Connor’s forehead. He didn’t seem tense at all. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I…just want to see you.” 

So. Doubts aside, this was a boundary. A piece of reality that stood between Connor and Hank, the fact of what _exactly_ Connor was. If they could overcome this… He knew he wanted to be as close to Hank. In all aspects. Once they shared this, a kernel of truth that neither of them could really avoid when it came down to it, then they would be even closer. 

So if Hank was sure…

The skin around Connor’s face disappeared. His hair retreated somewhere into his scalp, along with his eyebrows and eyelashes. What remained was immaculate white plastic with gray sensors along his profile. Connor’s model number engraved on his cheekbone. His same round brown eyes. A cavernous mouth with a dark gray tongue inside—so dark it was almost black. 

He was on full display. As exposed as he could possibly be. Like this, all of his skin gone, Connor felt strangely….liberated. A weight off his shoulders, one he that he wasn’t sure if he liked being without.

This must be what it felt like to be naked. Actually nude.

Connor fought back a moan. Physically, being naked felt amazing, but was Hank repulsed by the sight of him…? 

Quietly, Hank traced the sensors along Connor’s face. Ran his hand down the bald head, cradled one of his small ears. Outlined the shadow of Connor’s lips with his thumb. When he was done feeling every inch of him, Hank slowly shook his head.

Connor panicked. He immediately thought about suggesting they stop all this. He could put his skin back on and they could go back to what they normally did, like always—

But then Hank was laughing. An incredulous, lighthearted sort of laugh. 

All of Connor’s suggestions died on his lips.

“God damn. I always imagined what you really looked like.” Hank bent forward so that their foreheads were pressed together. They stayed like that for several moments. 

His breath was hot in Connor’s face, even though his voice was a whisper. “How come you’re still so beautiful, huh.”

It wasn’t a question. Once again, Hank said this like it was a statement. Indisputably true. 

…This. This was…

He clung to the back of Hank’s head, locking him in place. Wishing he could keep him there forever. 

…love.

Connor would admit he didn’t entirely understand the word. He didn’t know if it was alright to give his feelings such a lofty title, and he didn’t know what the appropriate response was in a situation like this. But he also knew what he felt. And there were no other words in his database for something as strong as this. 

A conclusion appeared across Connor’s visual field the same way all his deductions did. Inquiry probe first. 

_I love him?_

Then another.

_He loves me?_

Finally, an assertion. Proven true upon analysis.

_I love him._

“Kuh…” Connor thought to say something, but he didn’t have enough control over his verbal output at the moment. So instead, he kissed Hank’s lips. There was less skin between them as usual. Hank’s facial hair made a curious sound against Connor’s plastic, but it felt much more intense than usual. 

“Mmm…”

Before he knew it, Connor’s mouth was open, dangling. Begging for Hank’s tongue. So many sensations, so many feelings, so _much…so much…_

Connor was well past the point of tactical control, or even dignity. He needed Hank to fuck him now. He needed to come. Because of Hank’s mouth or his fingers or his cock, _anything_ , he just needed it. Needed to wait for it pass surrounded by Hank’s embrace. To feel that connection they shared when they were both orgasming, experiencing it together…

Hank sat up again. His cock was still out and he started jerking himself hard. Apparently he was just as needy for it. 

“Ck…uh…” Connor stuck out his tongue again. He knew he couldn’t reach that cock, but Hank was probably already close to the end. Connor wanted to taste Hank’s release when he got there…feel it on his bare plastic…

_Yes, please, that!_

“Fucking…so beautiful, just like that…Just like that…” Hank was masturbating himself rough and fast, staring at Connor’s face like it was pornography. Like that alone could get him off. 

Not willing to wait another second, Connor decided to push Hank over the edge by telling him exactly what the man craved. 

“Please Hank, give it to me…I want you to ejaculate on my face—”

Before the words were even fully out, Hank was coming. Growling and snapping his hips. Giving Connor everything he’d asked for. 

And Connor came as soon as the first drop of cum hit his tongue. He could feel Hank’s essence seep into his being and that was all he needed. There was cum everywhere else too—his eyes, his cheeks, his uncovered sensors, his lips, his chin, his neck—and that was perfect. Hot and thick. 

_Hank!_

He might have screamed. His LED was probably going crazy. But Connor couldn’t be certain of anything because he was kicked into full reboot shortly after. It took him about a minute to cool down and turn back on, his system finally stabilizing. 

As his awareness returned, Connor felt warm lips on his forehead, around his LED. He hummed appreciatively; the affectionate contact felt nice before Connoreven realized what it was.

Of course, it was Hank. Steadfastly trying to kiss the life back into Connor. It seemed to work, because Connor felt fantastic now. His face was still dripping wet, but that was also a lovely sensation to wake up to. 

“Mmm, Lieutenant…” Connor sucked his lips into mouth. Licking away as much as he could. Like he didn’t want to waste it. “…That’s very nice.”

“Tch.”

Hank had rolled off of Connor while he was out. Now he was laying next to the android on the bed, giving him one last kiss before ambling to his feet to go find a towel. 

Connor sat up. He was aware of his own nakedness. That didn’t bother him, though. He couldn’t have felt any calmer. Natural. Sort of slow still, from his reboot. But peaceful, like he did when he brought his processing as low as it could go. 

This bed was very soft. The sheets were comfortable. Connor stroked the mattress top graciously. What a good place to lay. 

When eventually Hank returned with a towel, he wiped Connor’s face as thoroughly as he could. Making sure to clean every last drop, even down Connor’s neck and shoulders. His chest, where certainly there were no stains. His arms. 

“I’m fine, Hank.” Connor held the man’s hands until they stilled. “That was an amazing experience. Thank you.” 

Narrowing his eyes, Hank tossed the towel into a heap of dirty clothes unceremoniously gathered near the closet. Evidently needing something to do, Hank picked up all the clothes and carried them two feet into the nearest hamper. Mumbling something under his breath.

Obviously Hank was feeling unconscious after that. It had gotten a little…intense. Much more than usual. 

But Connor had absolutely no regrets. He wanted Hank to feel the same way, since he knew the man had enjoyed it just as much. 

Better to try teasing. That always worked.

“You know, Hank,” Connor began, fitting himself underneath the sheets just to indulge his sensors. (Also he didn’t plan on going anywhere.) “I don’t think you’re being very fair.” 

Shoulders back, Hank turned around to face him. He looked defensive but also bashfully apologetic. Waiting for Connor to reprimand him for what they’d just done, like he knew he deserved it. “How’s that?”

“Well, you asked me to get completely naked and I did. All the way. But, you didn’t do the same yourself.” It was an inarguable point. “You’re still wearing your clothes from earlier.” 

Realizing he’d been led on, that there was no other reprimand coming, Hank swore and scratched the back of his head. There was something tender about him right now. Perhaps vulnerable. He didn’t seem to know what to do, and that was unusual for them. Normally he was the one giving orders. 

He’d just revealed something personal to Connor. Some secret desire he’d kept hidden for a while. That in itself was a kind of exposure. 

Even so, Hank threw his hands up in defeat. He pulled the dirty shirt over his head and stepped out of his boxers. Baring his naked body to Connor for the first time. 

“There. Happy?” 

Overall, Hank without his clothes on looked just like Connor expected. The bottom half Connor already knew, he’d seen it that night he stumbled upon Hank masturbating. And the top half…husky. A feathery coat of gray hairs covered the middle of his chest and downward in an interesting T-shape. His stomach was large and undefined, spilling over just a bit around the waist. But not obviously so. His arms were thick. Toned muscle softened from age and lack of exercise, where only the girth remained. 

A tough body. Very fine. One Connor was invested in bringing pleasure to. 

“Yes. Extremely.” He smiled. “Come to bed with me?” 

Hank shook his head like he couldn’t believe him. Choosing to say nothing, he climbed into bed next to Connor. His weight dipped the mattress and suddenly their bodies were pressed together. Connor turned all his skin back on—if he didn’t he would likely become painfully aroused again and that was too much to ask of Hank in one night. 

They laid side by side for a bit without saying anything. Connor could finally analyze Hank’s body up close and he hypothesized the origin of every mark on him. Every scar, every blemish. The faded tattoo in the center of his chest. Things he hadn’t seen before. 

Overjoyed, Connor threaded his fingers through the soft hairs on Hank’s chest. “You are very handsome, Lietuentant.” Before the man could argue, Connor kissed his cheek and added, “To me.” 

As he’d learned, there was no way to deny an opinion. That was just the way Connor felt. And he wanted Hank to know.

Lo and behold, Hank turned pink across his cheeks and nose. Just a faint dusting. There and gone in a second. But Connor had seen it, enough to cherish. 

Hank spoke at last, eyes closed. “You got some weird kind of taste, kid. You know that?” 

Connor didn’t know that he did, but maybe it was true. How would he know? The entirety of his experience was just this. This bed. The two of them. 

That’s what he liked. 

He laid his head down on Hank’s chest. Settling into his spot. Now they could stay together like this the whole night, with no interruptions…

But after a minute or so, Hank was speaking again. “…Alright. There’s one more thing we need to do, if we’re going to keep this up. Mostly something you need to do.” 

Oh? More fantasies? Connor already liked the idea. He sat up, alert and ready for suggestions. “Go on.” 

“You need to get your own apartment.” 

Connor’s response network faltered as he tried to process that. Not at all what he’d been expecting. He needed to…an apartment? Androids were allowed to own or rent property now. And Connor had money but…why should he? Did Hank think they needed more space? Was he unhappy with Connor demanding his attention so often? Had he been too needy—

“Okay calm down.” Hank cupped Connor’s cheek and passed his thumb over the LED. Probably bouncing between yellow and red. “I can see you getting all worked up. Don’t get me wrong, Connor. You can spend the night here whenever you want, alright? You’re always invited and I’ll never saw no. Let’s just be clear on that.” 

His tired face twitched into a smirk. “You gotta know I love having you here.” 

Actually Connor had not known that. He was still learning how to extrapolate Hank’s feelings from his words and actions. It wasn’t an exact science. 

But it was nice to hear that Hank did want him around. Wonderful, in fact. Reassured, Connor laid back down on his chest and played with Hank’s hair while he continued. 

“So, sure yeah, you could stay here every night if you wanted. But…I think you should have you’re own place too. Something that’s entirely yours. Hell, you’re getting paid now. Everyone goes through their first apartment phase. It’s part of…you know, growing up.” Hank grimaced and clarified. “Figuring out who are, I mean.” 

Ah. Personal space was a key component on the path to personhood. If Connor had an apartment, he’d have a place to spend time…thinking. Doing things that he wanted to do.

Which was…what? Connor honestly didn’t have any hobbies or things outside of work and his relationship with Hank that he found fulfilling.

Maybe that was the problem.

“And seriously, Connor, you can’t spend nights at the station anymore. It’s just weird.” He put his arm around Connor’s shoulders. Offering some small support against the harsh words. “People don’t do that, okay?” 

Connor thought it actually saved a lot of time passing the ten or so hours between his shifts at the station. He’d gotten used to the night crew, although they all found him strange and didn’t mind saying so to his face. The only other android who lived at the station was that one PM700 unit who’d never come to terms with the changing expectations for androids. She was perfectly comfortable being an auxiliary police android, without a name, and without anything beyond her daily duties. Connor docked next to her sometimes overnight while charging. They could pass only a bare minimum of conversation, but Connor actually found her company very pleasant.

Still. Connor was nothing like the PM700 unit. He knew that. 

“I see your point, Hank. It might be a valuable experience for me to have an apartment.” Even though he said that, Connor had many doubts. 

Wouldn’t he be bored? Or lonely? Could he find an apartment within his budget that was…adequate? How would he even know an adequate apartment? What kind of research could he do that would be at all relevant to his own needs…whatever those were?

“It would certainly be a challenge for me.” Connor looked away and rattled off reasons. “I don’t know where to begin my search, or what to look for in an apartment. What size or what…amenities, I suppose. I’m not sure what I’d need—”

“Don’t worry about any of that. I’ll help you.” Hank combed his fingers through Connor’s hair. “We’ll look at places together, and I’ll make sure you find something that works.” 

Oh. Connor brightened immediately. Hank would definitely know what to do; he’d be a wonderful resource! With his help…maybe Connor could actually do this. 

“…Thank you, Lieutenant.” He kissed Hank’s fingers and relaxed. Full of love and gratitude. 

“Of course.” Hank yawned. “We’ll start looking this weekend, okay? Trust me, once you have an apartment you’re gonna love it. I remember my first place…absolute shithole, but I thought it was the greatest find in town. Cheap as hell, too…” 

Hank quietly talked himself to sleep. Remembering. For once though, these sounded like good memories. Connor took mental notes and thought about his own future. 

He had a future now. That was part of free will. The idea—the burden of choice—was a little overwhelming. But having Hank’s support was very heartening. Connor knew he could safely depend on the things they accomplished together. That much had been proven.

And well, he was in love. That was a feeling he’d carry around with him no matter what happened. Another safety net.

It was difficult to feel too anxious with so much love in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I could write I whole fic about Hank and Connor just apartment hunting and fucking on the side. Like, damn. I *so* want to write that. 
> 
> Heheheh...these guys. I can't even. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone <3

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up on tumblr](https://jeejascoffee.tumblr.com/) if you like! Always up for a chat :)


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